


A Gift Of Mistletoe

by flawedamythyst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-25
Updated: 2010-12-25
Packaged: 2018-10-16 08:19:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10567329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: After Sam gets his soul back, Castiel starts bringing him presents.





	

The first time it happened was two days after Dean had located Sam's soul, rescued it from Hell and stapled it back on. Sam was still trying to cope with the influx of emotions and feelings, all the things he'd forgotten how to deal with. Dean had bought him a packet of Cheetos while getting gas the day before and he'd had to spend ten minutes staring out the window, blinking back tears of gratitude.

Dean had noticed, of course. “Seriously, dude? Seriously – you're gonna be this much of girl?”

“Shut up,” snapped Sam, embarrassment rushing through him so strongly that he could feel his cheeks flush. He gritted his teeth and kept staring out at the passing countryside, hoping like hell that this was just a temporary adjustment period, and not a sign that Dean had re-attached his soul in the wrong way somehow.

So, when Castiel popped into existence in their motel room the following night, with a a very deep and serious look on his face, and presented Sam with a sprig of mistletoe, Sam was equally touched at the gesture, confused as to what it meant, and relieved that Castiel was apparently over his recent tendency to ignore Sam. All three emotions were so strong and tangled into each other that Sam had to take a deep breath and carefully push it all back down before he could respond. “Thanks, Cas,” he said, hoping no one else noticed the slightly choked tone of his voice. Sadly, it was clear from Dean's amused snort that he had.

Castiel didn't say anything in reply, he just kept staring at Sam intently, standing slightly closer than was usual even for him. Sam began to feel faintly uncomfortable and the confusion rose up again.

“Um. What's it for?” he asked.

Castiel frowned. “You should already know,” he declared and then disappeared again.

Sam looked down at the mistletoe and then up at Dean, who shrugged. “Not a clue,” he said. “Some kind of angelic 'congrats on getting your soul back'?”

Sam gave up on trying to understand, although he did keep the mistletoe, tucked away in a ziplock bag to prevent it from being damaged. After all, angelic mistletoe might turn out to be useful, and it wasn't as if he got many presents these days.

 

****

 

The next time was a week later. Sam was beginning to get back on top of his feelings – Dean had got him the wrong coffee earlier, but rather than burst into tears with frustration and stamp his foot like a small child, he'd managed to restrain himself to a glare and a sulk that only lasted an hour.

Castiel appeared while Sam was outside a library, waiting for Dean to pick him up so that they could go and take out the spirit of an old woman with a grudge against teenagers. He strode over with purpose and presented Sam with more mistletoe, a much bigger branch than the last. Sam stared at it, then at Castiel, who gave him no clues as to what the hell was going on.

Confusion swirled within him, making his head hurt. “What's this for, Cas?” he asked. “Is it some kind of angel thing?”

“There is nothing of heaven in this,” said Castiel, and Sam thought he detected a hint of annoyance in his voice just before he disappeared again.

After he and Dean had dealt with the spirit, Sam spent several hours looking up everything he could find on mistletoe, but there was nothing he didn't already know – its attributes as a poison, and the custom of decorating with it at Christmas. He slammed his laptop shut with annoyed frustration, then pounded his fist against the table.

“It doesn't make any sense!” he exclaimed.

“Chill, dude,” said Dean, not looking up from the T.V. He'd grown rather used to Sam's occasional outburst over the last week or so and now mainly ignored them.

Sam scowled at the branch of mistletoe for a little while before packing it away with the other piece. The thought of Castiel interrupting his civil war in order to bring Sam mistletoe made a warm glow burn in his chest, even if he still didn't know why. Probably just his soul acting up again.

 

****

 

The third time, Castiel presented Sam with what looked to be a whole mistletoe plant. Sam took it, muscles straining under the weight, then looked at Castiel.

“Cas, I have no idea why you keep giving me these,” he said, frustration making him want to flail his arms around, grab Castiel's coat lapels and demand answers.

“I am doing it wrong,” said Castiel with a frown. Sam could tell he was about to disappear again, so he grabbed hold of his wrist.

“Stay,” he commanded. “Explain.”

Castiel looked down at where Sam was touching him, then back up at Sam's face with a strange look on his face. “One more try,” he said, and then there was the stomach-rushing feeling of angelic teleportation and they were somewhere else.

It was a forest somewhere, and they were standing under an oak tree. Sam glanced around. “Where the hell are we?” he asked.

“That is unimportant,” said Castiel, pointing upwards. “Observe.”

Sam glanced up into the branches of the oak. The whole thing was taken over by the largest mistletoe plant that Sam had ever seen, choking the tree so thoroughly that it must have been close to death. For a long moment, all he could feel was pity for the tree, so strong that for a horrible instance he wanted nothing more than to hug it and tell it that everything was going to be okay.

He cleared his throat, then realised what he was really seeing. Mistletoe above his head, while Castiel hovered close to him and stared into his eyes with what probably passed as a meaningful look for an angel.

“Um,” said Sam. “You want-” he broke off suddenly realising how ridiculous what he had been about to say would have sounded. The last thing he wanted was to make Castiel think he was more of an idiot than he clearly already did.

Castiel stepped even closer, his coat brushing the front of Sam's body. “Continue that train of thought,” he demanded.

Sam did. It seemed as if it would either end in abject humiliation, or something very nice indeed, something he hadn't really ever allowed himself to consider. He ducked his head slightly towards Castiel – not too far, so that it could still be passed off as an attempt to bring Castiel's face, which was now very close, into focus properly. Castiel's eyes dipped to his mouth and then back at his eyes, and that was enough of a signal for Sam to close the distance between them in order to capture Castiel's lips in a kiss.

The rush of exhilaration and joy that went through him as Castiel responded slightly awkwardly, grabbing at Sam's sleeve, was strong enough that it felt as if he'd been bowled over by a charging rhino, but Sam couldn't tell if that was a natural reaction to kissing an angel, or if his emotions were over-reacting again. It really didn't matter either way, though, not as long as Castiel was pushing forward for more rather than backing away in disgust.

“About time,” was all he said when Sam finally let his mouth go. Sam rolled his eyes, and kissed him again, resisting the urge to do a little dance of joy as he did so.

That could wait until later. Right now, he had an angel to kiss.


End file.
